lying on a fake beach
by nasty plot
Summary: Normal girls don't think about death this often. — YukariMinako


"You know," said Yukari once, when it was just the two of them lounging around Tartarus's highest floors, "I dreamed about this weird version of you. You were a boy – which was strange, but not really – blue-eyed and emo kind of. Wore headphones, too."

"Was I still super cute?" replied Minako once, popping her hip with a glorious smile, and Yukari laughed, forgetting the unease.

"Definitely." A study in casual honestly.

* * *

Minako was so, so pretty. Yukari hadn't like, noticed at first, not really, but Minako got to people like sunshine to bones, and – her smile wasn't blinding, but it always reminded Yukari of harbors in the summer. Like going home.

"I'm actually sort of jealous of you," Minako said, making a face, because with Minako everything had to be playful and light-hearted, even if the subject wasn't. Yukari envied her for it; how would it feel to let go of things instead of guarding them neatly? Waiting for the dish to be served cold?

"Huh? Why?" Yukari leaned over the sink, checking out her hair.

"You're so strong, Yukari-chan," Minako said, in a breathy kind of voice that made Yukari's skin prickle into goosebumps, "and you don't let anything get you down. I wish I could be like you."

Yukari smoothed her sleeves down (she had rolled them up in the morning), breathing in through her nose, and smiled awkwardly.

"Thanks," she said, feeling dry and tasteless, like a stale meal.

* * *

One day Minako asked her if Akihiko-senpai and Mitsuru-senpai were dating, and Yukari just shrugged, because no, they weren't, but Yukari didn't want to tell her that, either. Minako hummed, framing her jaw with her hand like the detectives in the animes Ken liked to watch on Sunday mornings, and that was that.

They never dated, in the end. Yukari felt guilty for weeks.

* * *

"You know, we're going to die one day," said Minako, sprawled on Yukari's yellow carpet. Her socked feet twitched, curling and uncurling, and Yukari had to remember staring was rude. It was probably one of Minako's deep days, too, judging on the subject – Yukari turned her gaze to the shelf, counting her handbags.

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh," nodded Minako, very seriously. "It might happen like, in eighty years, or maybe it can happen next full moon. Or maybe when we're going to school. Or—you know."

"I know," Yukari said, and she did, too.

"This is a stupidly serious job," the brunette said, stretching, and Yukari let herself fall on the bed, looking at the ceiling. "We should definitely get health insurance, at least."

"I'm sure you could ask Mitsuru-senpai," Yukari offered, halfway into laughing already. Minako followed with loud giggles of her own.

* * *

"Yuka-tan," said Junpei, interrupting Minako and Yukari's Special Scoping Out Boys in Magazines Hour. Yukari glared at him, bringing her magazine up like a shield, but Minako smiled encouragingly at him – she was such a good person – and he went on. "Do you think you can introduce me to that tall friend of yours – I think she's on the volleyball team?"

Yukari curbed the urge to throttle Junpei, but just because Minako didn't have to suffer through fifteen minutes of pitiful whining.

"No way," she said, frowning, "she just broke up with her boyfriend, she doesn't need someone like _you_ hanging all over her!"

"Yuka-tan, that's mean," Junpei said, taking a step back, a hand over his heart. "How'm I ever going to get a girlfriend like this?"

"You're _not_."

Minako ended up staying back, consoling Junpei; Yukari climbed the stairs and headed for her room, feeling irritated and sad and without knowing why.

* * *

Chagall Café was cozy and warm and Yukari felt content as she sat down, already taking off her jacket. Minako, too, though she preferred to pick up the menu first. Yukari picked the other one up, skimming through the desserts' list.

"Kind of seems like we're dating, huh," said Minako, eyes steady as they read. Yukari followed them dutifully, drawing the lines they repeated. Minako noticed, turning pink; she set down her menu and giggled. "Sorry, it's just, I dunno, the girls have been talking about getting boyfriends and I—"

"Oh, um, right," said Yukari, blinking. "Are you going to get one?"

"Of course not, I could never," replied Minako, blushing fiercely and smiling despite her best attempts. The pink color stayed in her ears up until the end of their coffee, until the end of their afternoon.

"Good, Minako-chan." Yukari returned to her menu, feeling warm. "Boys are morons."

Pink all over.

* * *

Minako pretended very well, but Yukari was an expert at heartbreak.

"I dunno," sobbed Minako, pressing her wet face against Yukari's taut shoulder, "sometimes it just – gets complicated. Life is very complicated, Yukari-chan." She stilled, fingers white from gripping the pink out of Yukari's favorite jacket. "What if I fail, Yukari-chan?"

"You won't fail, stupid," Yukari said, her voice tender, "you've got us backing you up. Don't carry the world up on your shoulders."

Minako sobbed harder, but this time it was silent and half-choked and angry. Yukari thought that, for once, she wouldn't be able to understand.

They didn't talk about that ever again. Sometimes, Yukari wondered.

* * *

But Minako pretended very well, and Yukari was no expert at dishonesty.

"How long have you known," she cried, over the silence; everything was faded glow and distant stars. Yukari could breathe just fine, but there was something constricting inside her chest. Her voice broke in a hiccup, but picked up second wind anyway. "Answer me! How long have you known you were going to die?"

Minako didn't reply. Mitsuru-senpai placed a hand on her shoulder.

* * *

"I wanted to tell her you were my best friend," Yukari said, legs hanging limply over the roof's edge. Her thigh pressed against the metal bar, and it was cold, but Yukari didn't shiver. The sky was clear, light blue like a river in the spring. Light blue like Aigis' eyes. "I was going to ask you to meet her. She'd love you. Anyone would."

The sun was white-bright like the bulb of a photographer's camera, and the shadows of the exiting students splayed across the dirt, stretching like dark strings of poison. Yukari sucked in a breath, feeling restless.

"I'm not going home this holiday," she whispered into her knuckles, trying to heat them up. They were gelid, recently released from around the fence. "I'm in my period of mourning. Also," because she could, though her voice sounded watery nevertheless, "your other you was cuter. Way cuter."

The sun seemed to shine brighter for just one tiny fragment of a second, and Yukari smiled between her tears.


End file.
